Holiday
by RachelDalloway
Summary: My idea of how a holiday dinner with Jack, Rose, their two children, and a few other, slightly unwelcome people, might go.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is meant to be kind of "timeless", and by that I mean when I wrote it I wasn't concentrating too heavily on being historically accurate, so there are some anachronisms. I just wanted to say I'm aware of them, and if it seemed like they would contribute to the humor, I left them alone because I think parodies operate under different rules than other types of stories. This one should only have one or two more chapters--as it unfolded, it seemed like too much for one fell swoop.

The phone was ringing. It had been ringing all morning, but Rose had been ignoring it. She knew who was calling. That's why she wasn't answering. Some small part of her held onto the hope that if she just ignored the ringing long enough, it would stop and they could avoid the person on the other end.

And just like that, the phone stopped ringing.

She heard her son Kurt say, "Hello" cheerfully and then heard his natural cheeriness fade into a forced tension covering brightness.

"Um, hi, grandma," he said. "No, we didn't forget you, but you're coming here, aren't you? So there's not much we really need to be doing is there?" As the voice on the other end grew sharp he realized his mistake. "Um, no, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Of course we want you to come," he lied quickly. "I've been looking forward to it for days." He hoped that wasn't taking it too far. It wasn't. He had soothed the beast, temporarily at least. "Okay, g'bye grandma," he said, slamming the phone down.

He turned to his mother, who sat at the kitchen table, her head buried in _The Second Sex._ "Mom, grandma just called," he said.

"I heard. She'd been calling for awhile. I was hoping she'd give up eventually," she said without looking away from her book.

Kurt didn't respond to his mother's indifference. He was accustomed to it, and if he was completely honest with himself, didn't blame her. "Well, she'll be here at five," he said, leaving the kitchen.

"Mmm-hhmm.."

Kurt wandered outside where he found his sister, Janis, cleaning her gun collection. Her golden red hair covered her face. She'd inherited their mother's curls, but something had gone horribly wrong somewhere because unlike their mother's, Janis's curls refused to lie flat and insisted on puffing out from her head and often ended up in her face. Kurt didn't know whether there was anything she could have done about it or not. He'd never seen her try. He was just happy his own golden red hair fell flat as a board around his face.

"Hey Janis, grandma called," he said.

She paused in her gun cleaning. "Did she say when she's coming?"

"Yeah. She'll be here at five." He did some quick math. "So that gives us three hours to get rid of anything that might make her eyes bug out...again."

Janis scowled. "I don't know why we have to do this every time. It doesn't matter what we do the day's going to end the same as it always does."

"I know, but we have to try."

"Fine. Let me finish this. I'll meet you in the living room."

And so they went through the house, hiding anything their grandmother might object to. During their scouring of the house their mother's sheela na gig statues were carefully carried up to the attic, Janis's gun collection was locked in her room as were her portion of the books littering the house, Kurt's sewing kit and fabric, and their father's art supplies were put in the room that had been set aside for them--among other things.

Janis collapsed onto the couch. "There. That's all of it."

Kurt dropped down beside her. "I hope so. I can't think of anything we could have missed." He looked around. "Did you see dad anywhere?"

"He's probably already hiding in the basement. I don't blame him," she added.

"Come on, grandma's not that bad."

She snorted. "You're just saying that because she likes you."

"She doesn't like me...she just..."

"She likes you."

He gave up fighting it. Their grandmother did like him--as much as she could like anyone in their family. "What time is it?" he asked, changing the subject.

She checked her watch. "Four."

"Almost time. We should get dressed."

"I'm not getting dressed up for that woman."

"Janis please," he begged. "Don't make this any worse than it has to be."

She got up and began heading toward the stairs. "You've already admitted it's going to be awful. Why does it matter what I do?"

"Janis!" he called pleadingly, following her upstairs. She ignored him.

Meanwhile, Jack really _was_ in the basement. He'd hidden down there every year, slipping off and disapearing down the stairs once the evening reached critical mass, but after a particularly harrowing incident the previous year, he'd finally had to face the fundamental flaw in his hiding place. It had no access to the outside. It was basically a box. There was one way in and one way out, which, as he had learned, was most definitely not a good thing.

The next day he'd come down there, a spoon in hand, determined to dig an escape tunnel. He'd abandoned the plan once it became clear that there was a reason why it took the guy in that book over a decade to dig an escape tunnel with only a spoon. Now he was back in his hiding place, cursing it for its inadequacies. With only one more hour to go he was having to face the fact that it was either hide there or hide nowhere.

The sound of a doorbell ringing made his blood run cold. She was early.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Just a quick thing--I don't know why I see Jack and Rose becoming hippies, but I do.

Jack emerged from the basement as Rose was making her way to the front door, a look of grim determination on her face. She'd decided to face the problem head on. They met in the middle of the living room.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." Her eyes darted to the door. The bell was ringing again. She was beginning to doubt her decision to grin and bear it.

Noticing her expression, he said, "We could still run."

"No you can't," Kurt said, coming down the stairs. His parents stared at him. "I mean it," he added, shuddering at the memory of the year they _had_ decided to make a break for it--and seeing they were gone, Janis had ran too--leaving him to deal with things alone.

"I can't believe you're wearing that!" Janis shrieked, hurrying down the stairs.

Kurt looked down at his black dress pants and crisp blue, collared shirt. "What's wrong with it?" He eyed Janis's purple, almost psychedelic dress. It had bell sleeves and a short, flared skirt. As usual, she had done nothing to tame her hair, though she had tucked a few strands behind her ears. "Janis, I told you to dress nicely," he scolded.

She shrugged. "I don't know what you're complaining about. _You_ made this."

She had him there. He turned his attention to his parents. His mother was barefoot and wore a green, silk dress that would not have looked out of place on a Greek goddess. A silver anklet adorned her left ankle. Rings covered her hands, and her fiery curls fell in waves down her back. He couldn't remember ever seeing her have a haircut. His father wore a pair of paint-stained jeans with the knees ripped out and a gray flannel shirt, soft from repeated washings. His honey colored hair fell just about his shoulders. Like Rose, he too was barefoot.

Kurt sighed. There wasn't time to herd them all back upstairs and into something--well, _presentable_. And even if there had been, odds were they would have resisted every step of the way. "Okay," he said. "I am opening the door."

"I hope she didn't bring him again," Jack muttered to Rose, though he was sure she had.

"Me too."

Kurt swung the door open. Jack's hopes were dashed as he saw not only Ruth standing in the doorway but Cal as well.

"Grandma!" Kurt cried, trying to sound excited. He stepped forward and air hugged her.

"Kurt! You're so tall, but why are you so skinny?" she asked, looking past him and zeroing in on Jack and Rose. "It's because you're mother can't cook, isn't it? You know I told her to learn, but she wouldn't listen."

"Grandma, dad does the cooking, remember?" Kurt said.

"Oh, right," she said in a voice that let them know exactly what she thought about that. She stepped past him and into the house. She spotted Janis. "Still haven't done anything about that hair, have you?"

"Still haven't done anything about mom's ex-boyfriend, have you?" Janis retorted, scowling.

Cal looked at his feet. "I don't have a family," he said. "Is it so wrong for me to borrow yours sometimes?"

"It's creepy," Janis said.

Kurt looked pained. "What she means is, you could have gotten married and had children of your own," he said.

"Oh why bother," Cal said gloomily. He stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him. "The last woman I went out with disappeared before the first date was over."

"Wow, that's kind of a personal best as far as your ability to repel women goes," Jack said, sounding slightly impressed.

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Cal said, brightening.

"Let's go and eat, shall we?" Kurt suggested. He made a sweeping motion with his arm and one by one they were herded into the dining room--a room Kurt had rediscovered just that very morning lurking under stacks of paintings and feminist pamphlets. He'd already brought in the food, placing it in the center of the table. He'd thought about creating a seating chart, but had decided against it. Janis would ignore it. His father would shake his head and marvel at how he'd turned out. His mother would go into a rant about the oppressiveness of assigning a "place" to a person.

As it turned out, they settled themselves around the table in the best order possible. Rose next to Jack, Cal next to him, Janis next to him, Kurt next to her, and finally Ruth between Kurt and Jack. It wasn't perfect, but there was a buffer between Rose and Ruth--though how much good Jack could do, he didn't know. He hoped Kurt's well groomed presence would be enough to distract her.


	3. Chapter 3

Ruth eyed the food suspiciously. "Still refusing to eat meat I see." She clucked her tongue in disapproval and surveyed the family. "No wonder you all look like twigs."

"We do not look like twigs," Rose said, fighting to keep her voice level. "And there is nothing wrong with not eating meat."

"Well, I just don't understand what made you decide it would be a good idea to raise these children on nothing but leaves and seeds." She shot Jack an unfriendly look. "Though I have an idea of where the idea came from."

He smiled widely in response. He was not going to be sucked into her game, not this year. He would be the mature adult he was the rest of the year—excluding the Sundays she sometimes dropped in—and stay quiet unless he had something nice to say. It was the same resolution he made every year.

"Well, I like this," Cal said, spearing a hunk of tofu with his fork. "I don't know what you're complaining about."

"Thank you," Jack said. "It's nice to know _someone_ appreciates my efforts."

"Normally I don't even like vegetables—or tofu, whatever it is, but there's something about yours...I don't know what it is, but if I ate here everyday I could be a vegetarian."

Jack smiled, a real smile this time. Since his life had started going downhill, Cal had become an almost okay person to have around. Sometimes. "So how are things?" Jack asked him.

"Looking up," Cal said brightly. "I just might get to move out of my sister's basement soon, so there's one in the plus column. And I think I might have found a way to make some money until my book gets published."

"You wrote a book?" Rose asked. "What's it about?"

"It's a sort of an inspirational thing. It's all about the obstacles in my life and how I overcame them and what I learned. It's pretty profound stuff," he said excitedly.

"What obstacles? You were a multi-millionaire until you lost it all in a pyramid scheme," Janis said scornfully.

"Janis!" Kurt hissed.

"It's true!"

"Oh no, we can talk about it," Cal said. "My therapist says I'm supposed to talk about these things."

"Mom could help you get your book published," Kurt said, He looked over at Rose. "Couldn't you?"

Rose froze, a forkful of sunflower seed kernels halfway to her mouth. "I don't think my publisher would be interested in it, actually—unless, do you talk about socialism?"

"About how much I don't like it."

"No, that won't do. What about feminism?"

"You say that word a lot, but I still don't know what you're talking about."

Rose looked pained. "Do you talk about anything besides how fun it was to be rich and how much you miss it?"

"Um, not really, no."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Oh, grandma," Kurt said. "Did you know mom's latest book just won a prize?"

"At least she can do _something_ well," Ruth said. "Though how anyone can read what she writes I do not know." She looked across Jack to Rose. "I just don't understand why you don't write about _pleasanter_ things."

Rose tensed. Jack could see the vein in her neck beginning to pop out. _I should have made less food,_ he thought frantically. _It wouldn't take so long to eat if there were less food. I wonder if there's some way I can hurry them up? _He looked at Janis, who was staring at her plate and eating normally. Kurt looked like he was in pain, but he had plastered a smile on his face and was forcing food into his mouth. Ruth was picking at her food and looking at it as if she expected it to attack her at any moment. Rose had stopped eating and was glaring at her mother. Only Cal looked truly happy, and he seemed completely oblivious to what was going on.

"What would you suggest?" Rose asked tersely. "Would you prefer it if I ignored reality?"

"You could focus on a happier reality. It's no wonder you can barely eat. You're stressing yourself out."

Rose took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to say something else but decided against it. Kurt saw his chance. "And dad's getting another exhibit," he said, trying desperately to get Ruth to say something nice to at least one of them.

"He's not filling it with obscene pictures of your mother, is he? Because it wouldn't surprise me if he was," Ruth said.

Jack gripped his fork tightly. He wondered how long it would take for anyone to notice if Ruth went missing. "No, I'm not," he said, barely moving his mouth. "They're landscapes."

"Whatever you want to call it," Ruth said dismissively.

"Did I tell you about Janis?" Kurt said, making one last attempt. "People are really starting to get excited about her singing."

"Yes, well with the music you young people like these days that doesn't surprise me. You know, when I was young there were standards, but not anymore." She shook her head dramatically.

"And when was that again?" Janis asked.

"Rose, I don't know why you didn't teach that girl better manners," Ruth said. "Perhaps if you'd spent more time with her when she was young or given her a stable home life—" She glared at Jack. "—she would have turned out better."

"There is nothing wrong with the way we've raised our children," Rose said tensely. "They've both turned out wonderfully."

"Well, one of them has, though how he's managed it without a decent male role model—" another glare in Jack's direction "—I'll never know."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Jack snapped, his resolution forgotten.

"I think you know what it means."

Kurt buried his face in his hands. All his best efforts were failing miserably.

"Oh, no, I want you to tell me," Jack said, quietly angry. "Was I supposed to end up like him?" He gestured toward Cal, who paused in his eating. "Hey," he said, sounding hurt. "What have I done to you lately?"

"Sorry man, you're just an example."

"Oh..okay." Cal went back to eating. "But you know, I do have a new way to make money," he said, sounding pleased with himself.

"Let's hear it," Jack said, welcoming any distractions.

"I'm going to learn how to count cards."

Jack looked at Ruth pointedly. "How can you _still_ say he's better than me?"


End file.
